


It's A Living Being Undead

by GigantOpossum (GigantoPossum), SecurityCat (GigantoPossum)



Category: iZombie (TV)
Genre: F/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Starts here, The Barber from s2 e6 deserved more screentime and importance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2020-06-09 12:04:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19475491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GigantoPossum/pseuds/GigantOpossum, https://archiveofourown.org/users/GigantoPossum/pseuds/SecurityCat
Summary: A new detective rolls into the morgue of the Seattle Police Department and Dr. Chakrabarti is smitten.





	1. Seattle's Finest

**Author's Note:**

> I like the show, so I made this! Isn't that always how it works? Her surname is pronounced "Nessy" like the loch ness monster.

The morgue of the Seattle Police department was never want for strange visitors. Most were dead, some even undead. But the woman who entered the morgue today was a bit stranger than normal.  
“Hi,” Ravi finally managed after picking his jaw from the floor. “Can we help you?”  
She was tall and wore high heels that made her even taller. The woman flashed the badge on her belt, not that the shoulder holster wasn’t enough to give her the look of a police officer.  
“I’m Lieutenant Detective Nesci,” she introduced. “You must be doctors Chakrabarti and Moore.”  
“Liv is fine.” The pasty young woman held her hand out to shake, which Nesci accepted. “Always nice to have another female in the workplace.”  
“Amen,” Nesci said, smiling politely at Liv. “Though I wish I could have come under better circumstances.”  
“Ah, yes,” Ravi said, ever the intellectual. “And what is it that brings you to our morbid abode?”  
“My partner.” Nesci nodded to the unopened body bag stretched out on the table behind them.  
“Oh, Nesci.” Liv put her hand over her heart. “We’re so sorry.”  
Nesci shrugged to mask the look in her eyes. Hurried footsteps behind had everyone’s heads turned to see Clive at the entrance. “Guys, drop whatever you’re doing, we got another body. You're never gonna believe where they found this one."  
Clive was already running back up the way he came before anyone could tell him otherwise. Nesci smiled at Ravi and Liv. "That looks interesting. Better catch him before he leaves without you."  
Liv opened her mouth to apologize, but Nesci stopped her. "It's OK. Just gives me more time to prepare for…" she didn't finish but they knew it had to be hard to see a dear friend rotting away as a corpse. They didn't know it, but Liv and Ravi were both imagining how they would feel seeing each other on the slab, their respective selves stand in Nesci's shoes. They packed the bodies in the coolers and scurried out, promising to meet with Nesci later in the day. 

"Holy moly," Liv exclaimed.  
"Holey indeed." Liv elbowed Ravi in the ribs for the cheap joke as they looked over their next victim.  
"Officers dragged the body out of the water trap after a couple of teenagers found fingers in the last hole," Clive explained.  
Ravi leaned over the body and quickly retreated, gagging violently. Liv was green in the gills too, knowing the brain was probably as rotted and swollen as that gamer guy and the cheerleader. Clive plucked a handkerchief from a pocket and covered the lower half of his face, his eyes watering as he tried not to vomit.  
The body was swollen and the skin turned black. Dozens of holes along the bare belly, arms, and chest were stretched around the waterlogged organs, some of which were visible through the holes.  
"How the hell did no one notice the smell?"  
Clive shrugged at Liv's question, kicking a mini golf ball away from his boot and into the water. "Management said it always stunk, just got worse and no one came around to fix it."  
Ravi was sprawled out on a mini golf course dramatically and huffing like he had run a triathlon. He dry heaved and rolled onto his side in the fetal position. Clive looked at Liv and shrugged.  
"Sensitive sense of smell," Liv said, though she suspected he was thinking about the smell that would be emanating from Liv's mouth as soon as they brought it back to the morgue. "This oughta be fun."


	2. Beachy Bodies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Identifying the body

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are gonna be hella short, which mean there's less pain in reading through them and minimal filler.

Nesci was back in the morgue with the doctors waiting just as they said they would. Clive was upstairs working on initial statements, so Liv had some time to gather the strength to drink the boiled brains of the minigolf guy before he showed up-- granted it was not nearly as much time as she liked. Instead, the woman put all her effort into focusing on the here-and-now, chiefly the identification of Nesci partner.   
“Are you ready,” Liv asked softly.   
Nesci’s fingers twitched, trying to rub the sweat from her palms. She nodded, not trusting her voice. It was Liv who unzipped the bag as Ravi peeled the flap down and away from the victim’s face. Nesci leaned in close. Then she cocked her head and came up for air visibly confused. Her lips tightened and she shook her head rapidly.   
“Can you show me the chest,” she asked. Liv and Ravi are both… very slow to react. Eventually, Ravi does uncover the requested part, and it caused Nesci to sigh.   
“This isn’t my partner,” she said.   
Ravi looked at Liv. “I know that… sometimes it can be hard to see a loved one like this, but--”   
“No, you don’t understand,” Nesci said, “Monty’s been my partner for ages, so I’ve seen them naked on several occasions. I know for a fact they had top surgery. Look,” she pointed unnecessarily, “no surgical scars.”   
“Oh,” the doctor’s exhaled. Things clicked for them as there had been a discrepancy with the police file as Monty’s gender had simply been unlisted, now they knew why.   
“Wait then, who…” All of them looked down at the handsome young man who definitely was not the Vice detective they thought they had identified.   
“Don’t know, but I’m going to make a few phone calls.” Nesci retreated up the steps where Clive would no doubt appear anytime now, throwing over her shoulder that, “Maybe the real Monty can shed some light on the problem. Ciao!” 

“So, Liv, be honest.” Ravi picked and pulled and brushed and fussed over his already impeccable hair. “Was it just me or is Detective Nesci, like, super hot?”   
“She is,” Liv confessed, distracted by her ‘too grey-green to be any good despite the amount of kale, vodka, and hot sauce she tried to drown it in’ smoothie. “Kind of feeling like this topic of conversation can wait.”   
“I thought I was helping distract you,” Ravi said.   
“What distracts you and what distracts me are very different right now,” she reprimanded. “For example, you clearly have got the hots for her.”   
“Well, sure,” he said nonchalantly, “but did you see how she relaxed when she found out that wasn’t her partner? I mean…”   
“Even for vice, it was a little fast.” Liv took a sip and instantly regretted it. “I mean, our John Doe really, really does look like Montagna dei Innocenti. The uncanny resemblance would still unnerve me if it were you or Clive on that table.”   
“Yeah. And I know it’s for respect purposes, but I do wish someone would have said something about the unmatched genitalia. Or the top surgery! It would have saved Nesci and Monty’s friends and family-- wherever they are-- a world of pain,” Ravi complained. “We’re medical examiners trying to identify a body, not assholes who don’t believe in trans rights.”   
“The thing that really bothers me is how can you have a partner and not know their whereabouts?”   
Clive entered just in time to put his two cents in. “Who are you guys talking about?”   
“Oh,” Ravi said, wishing Liv had drunk her vodka smoothie a little quicker. “Just this new gorgeous vice detective come to see her partner’s body. Only-- get this-- it wasn’t her partner at all. And she basically said she didn’t know where her partner actually was.”   
“You know that’s a lot more common in vice than you’d think,” Clive defended. “I spent many a night going dark with my partner for sensitive cases.”   
Liv hummed through the pain. “And now I guess you spend your nights going dark with Dale.”   
Ravi laughed and raised his hand for a high five despite knowing Clive would never reciprocate it.   
“Come on,” Clive said, practically dragging Liv out of the morgue, “we’ve got a couple of family members to interview. 

Somewhere on a warm beach, Monty’s burner rang. They almost rolled over back to sleep but answered after the third call. It was picky Nicci, of course, the only person who had this number, and she didn’t sound happy.   
“Hey Nicci,” Monty drawled teasingly, a little bit tipsy on the Pina Coladas they served out here. “I’ve been worried about you. You don’t call, you don’t write…”   
“Seattle PD just found a John Doe they mistakenly identified as you,” Nicci cut in. “Mind telling me what your doppelganger is doing here?”   
Monty shrugged, then remembered it wasn’t a video call, or if it was that they would have been doing a terrible impression of a sober person. “No idea, picky Nicci, but you tell Boss Hoggs I said hello.”   
“Who? Are you drunk?”   
“Well, what else do you expect?” Monty rolled in the lawnchair to sun their back. “White sand, hot weather. I’m pretending to be a gorgeous escort for a Venezuelan drug dealer, can’t play the part if I’m not sipping a few martinis.”   
Over the phone, Nicci sighed. “Stay safe. I’ll keep you updated on the case, see if it goes anywhere. Bye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering, Monty's name means "Moutain of Innocence," because all the important characters in iZombie have specific names. Monty is nonbinary and has no preferred pronouns, so, for the most part, they will trade around (they/she/he) depending on Monty's impersonations from now on. I myself am cisgender and have never written nonbinary/transgender, but I promise to be sensitive and stick to the rules I've set for Monty.


	3. Two Cases Enter...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nesci pursues the Monty-look alike case with the assistance of Ravi, while Clive and Liv work the put-put case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nesci's got the hots for Ravi, too, she's just not so obvious teenager about it like he is.

"And lo," Liv belted from the top of the morgue table, waving her hands about like a raving lunatic, "God wrought his wrath upon the land, sucking the life from the sinners and opening the gates of hell for the likes of you!"  
She pointed an accusing finger at a very tired, very annoyed Dr. Chakrabarti. He only pulled his hand away enough to look up at the monster he had created.  
"So Mr. John Doe was a catholic priest," he bemoaned, "and a loud one at the sound of it."  
“Shut your heathen mouth!” She leaped like a stiff power ranger bad guy and lurched close to him. He put his hands up in defense lest she get too close. “For it is your kind that burns in the fire and sits cooked on the Devil’s plate!”  
“And a racist,” he muttered under his breath.  
Upon seeing Clive, Ravi was desperate to be rid of her. He grabbed her gently by the arms and passed her like a football off to a very confused detective.  
“Take her,” Ravi begged, “please.”  
When they left, Ravi sat down and took in the peace and quiet of the morgue. The rest of his morning was spent tidying up a bit and checking on the zombie rat experiment. The results were somewhat disheartening but there was not a bone in his body that would convince him to stop trying. Major needed him to find a cure, and quickly. He didn't care much whether Blaine survived or not, but Major was his friend and on the same path to demise as that murderous drug dealer. The echo of footsteps pulled him from his side room project and into the main lab where Nesci was.  
Her shoes, for all their clamor in the echoey space, were sensible for work. Short heeled and mostly hidden by the bell of her slack’s legs. The khaki color of her trousers seemed less boring next to the pastel pink button-up she wore. Ravi had never thought of rolled sleeves as sexy, but now he felt he understood why women went wild for it on a guy.  
"Hello detective," he said. He hoped she hadn't been too attentive to his very modest sweep of her attire. Running through a dozen terribly embarrassing greetings in the flash of a second, he settled on a question. "What brings you back here?"  
"I've IDed the body. The one we thought was Monty," she said simply, handing him the folder in her arms. "Jameson Wheeler, a busboy at a woodfire restaurant by the wharf."  
"That's fantastic," he replied, then quickly, "I mean, sad that he died, but fantastic that we know who to bury…?"  
She smiled at his expense, but he liked it a bit. "We're going to put out the information to the news stations, see if we can pick up the perp or get any tips from around the place. I've interviewed the witnesses at the pool where he drowned, they say they heard him on the phone with someone very angry, and one of them thinks it was his dad. I'm going to talk to him right now."  
"That's great." Ravi crossed his arms when she didn't leave. "Why are you telling me all of this?"  
"Well," she shrugged her shoulders, gazing around at all the instruments in the room. "I bet you could use some sunlight."  
Not minutes passed before Ravi was sat in the passenger seat of Nesci's patrol car. They made turns in the suburban reaches of Seattle until they found a grey house near the high school. Nesci instructed the doctor to keep his word count to a minimum and unless he really had something important to say, he could say it to her afterward. The relief of not being expected to interview the suspect washed over him, and he hung back with his hands in his pockets as she knocked.  
The man who answered looked a frightful mess, his straw-like brown hair tousled, eyes puffy and red, and his knees dirt covered.  
Nesci sensed something about him at that moment. "Mr. Wheeler," she said carefully, "We found your son lying face down in the Cherry Public pool. Would you mind coming down to the station to tell us what happened."  
Mr. Wheeler broke down crying, he fell to his knees and lifted his hands up and out, ready to be slapped with cuffs.  
"I did it," he said sobbing into his shirt, "I didn't mean to but I did it, I killed my boy. My baby boy…"  
As Nesci cuffed him, Ravi couldn't help but think of how easy this trip had been and wondered despite knowing better if it was like this for Clive and Liv. 

The detective and the "clairvoyant" were not having such an easy go of it. With the body still unidentified, they decided to jump from church to church to see if anyone of their congregations had gone missing. One Catholic church had been just the one to provide everything they needed. A name, a description, and too many motives to count on two hands.  
"Franklin Delano was a priest at the Sacred Heart church, he had a mean temper and got on a lot of people's nerves," Clive accounted aloud in the morgue, updating Ravi who had been out and back long before they had.  
"It's so weird," Liv said, "it was clear he was a complete asshole, so why did it seem like he was really, really well-liked in his community?"  
"I think this might have something to do with it," Ravi said, pointing to his monitor. On the screen was the website for the church, with hundreds of photos of picnics, rallies, services, field trips, and more. The one he had pulled up of Franklin showed not an ugly man. He was actually quite handsome, probably a Burt Reynolds type of guy, which is to say in an 80's movie kind of way.  
Clive snapped his fingers, making a connection. "It did seem like the ones who had the most good to say about him were older women."  
“And their husbands didn’t seem too happy about it,” Liv added.  
“So let’s go digging,” Clive said, clapping his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I miss Burt Reynolds.   
> BUT ANYWAYS, I might have to rewatch the show from episode 6 on out, I'm in season 3 and A LOT has changed, let me tell you.


	4. Probable Cause For Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ravi makes a threatening discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uploaded on mobile so I'll fix whatever is broken about this later.

Ravi hadn't seen Nesci since the arrest. He worried his cup of tea like a mother waiting for her sick son's test results. Clive and Liv had been nowhere to be found either, even as the work day came to a close. Feeling left out and fed up, the man packed up his things and retreated to his home hoping Major was up to playing some Black Ops. 

Major was home, but in no mood for hanging out. Having no other options, the doctor resigned to playing on his own. A few hours and a chipped controller later, his phone rang. Not that he noticed, until a perturbed Major Lillywhite handed the answered phone to him. 

"Dude," Major said, his hair a nest from sleeping in bed all day, "please, I'm really not in the mood for your weird break up things. Just tell her to leave you alone or something…" 

"Wha…" the unknown number held no answers, and neither did his shambling roommate. "...Hello?" 

It was Nesci. "I tried calling you before, but no one was in the morgue. Did you get my voicemail?" 

"Uh," Ravi picked at a loose thread in his blanket. "N-no. What's going on?" 

"I thought you'd like to know what was going on with the Cherry Kid case." 

Ravi met with Nesci at the docks of Pike Place market. A chain link fence with a thousand love locks attached to it was almost able to block the view of the highway from the picturesque Puget Sound seascape. Nesci bundled up in a thicker peacoat and scarf to keep the wind chill down, only to pull a second scarf from her pocket to give to Ravi, who had dressed poorly. 

"Spend so much time in the lab that sometimes I forget what the weather is like," Ravi confessed. 

"I know the feeling," Nesci said. "Now come, sit."

They found a few chairs by the fence, careful to stay out of the way of the art vendors closing down for the night. A pair of people were packing away wood carvings into a trunk and talking about dinner. 

"Nicholas Wheeler did murder his son during an argument, a heat of the moment deal. He said he pushed the boy and he hit his head on the floating pool cleaner, which the physical evidence we collected from the crime scene would suggest is correct. Now here's where things get interesting…" 

Ravi leaned in close just in time to hear his stomach interrupt with a rude, abominably loud growl. Nesci, ever so polite, motioned with her head and they walked to the nearest Starbucks. The establishment boasted the favored title "first Starbucks ever created," and at this time of year was-- for once-- mostly empty. Sunset was turning to twilight, and the cabs and the buses would be full of people desperate to get back home and sleep. They took a window seat and ignored the glare of the teen barista who was tasked with sweeping the floors. 

"Wheeler had a really hard time telling me what he and his son were arguing about," Nesci said with a hint of a smile, "I told him I'd probably heard a lot stranger things from all my years but he insisted this would be the weirdest." 

"What did he say?" Ravi nearly dumped the hot, sugary coffee into his lap in his anticipation. 

"Meth." Nesci leaned back in her chair and sipped her beverage like some grand finale on a soap opera. 

"Meth? That's it?" 

"Well not in so many words," Nesci tapped her fingers to her thigh, a look of concentration that bordered on confusion crossed her face. "He said that Jameson had contracted a condition where he would go on rampages, even getting so bad as to--" 

She double checked to make sure they went unheard by the other occupants of the room. Their foreheads nearly touched as she whispered, "he was eating human flesh…"

Ravi's blood turned cold. He was too frozen to hide his surprise, but decided it was actually the most appropriate reaction. Nesci would think the fact he was eating people had triggered him, and not the fact that Ravi had somehow completely missed the fact that he had a dead zombie enter his lab unawares. 

Nesci continued. "Is there anything in your toxicology report that can confirm drugs? I don't remember seeing anything of interest, but it's the only explanation." 

Ravi stood abruptly and this time he did knock over his coffee. "I need to leave. I have something important I need to discuss with Dr. Moore." 

Ravi could not recall the way he got home, the daze so strong he might have walked or gotten a cab. It was Peyton who answered the door when he knocked, and all of his focus came back to her. 

"Hey," Peyton greeted. Like they had never been in a relationship that ended badly. like he had never broken her heart. Maybe she was just forgiving that way, or maybe he was reading way too much into the situation. 

"Is Liv here? I need to speak to her." Peyton showed him into the living room where Liv was passed out asleep in dad clothes with a bowl of chips, a couple empty beer bottles, and an old western playing. "Oh right, dusty old Catholic brains." 

"Is that why she's like that?" Peyton retreated to her room and Ravi shook Liv awake. It took several tries, each shake was harder than the last and met with a horrible snoring sound. At last, she snarled awake and battered him with some spiel about respecting one's elders before he cut her off. "Liv, this is serious! That Wheeler boy, he was a zombie!" 

Liv blinked at him. "No. No he couldn't be, we'd have noticed, we did the autopsy." 

Ravi sighed in defeat. "No, I did the autopsy. And I must have been distracted, I didn't think to check for any signs of zombification." 

Liv gave him a creeping dirty old man smile. "Distracted, huh? Bet it was that hot Afrcian queen ass, wasn't it?" 

"Gross," Ravi spat. He started to turn, only to pull a 360 and shout, " and very, very racist!" 

Liv scoffed like only that Franklin Delano could have, only to have her eyes widen suddenly and without warning. She gasped, looking almost like she was having a heart attack. 

"A vision?" Peyton made Ravi jump out of his skin. She had been trying to steal a bottle of fireball from the fridge and happened upon the scene. "A long one, too."

Liv finally came out of it and insisted that she had to call Clive. Peyton made her promise to wait until the morning. Not that Clive ever slept, just trying to keep some boundaries. 

"What are we going to do about the Wheeler case, Ravi?" 

"What can we do," he repeated, fervently tapping his fingers on the table top. "Maybe it'll be like it is with Cavanaugh!"

"Cavanaugh is lazy," Liv refuted, "and I don't think we should be relying on the closed mindedness of a person we've only just met." 

"Maybe it won't be such a bad thing," Ravi reasoned. "Maybe she'll be on our side!" 

"We haven't even told Clive."

And with a single fell swoop, the conversation was won. Nesci couldn't find out about zombies, at least not yet. Now the only thing left to do is to figure out how to get the case taken off her hands to protect zombie kind...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are Ravi and Liv going to do about the Wheeler case? Who killed Franklin Delano? Will these fools ever tell their best friend Clive the truth about Liv? Find out next time!


	5. Dead Stop, Case Blocked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liv and Clive interview a few witnesses and Ravi steps on Nesci's tail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No joke, this was 90% written up since September, and I just figured out how to end it. I needed some time to digest the show's finale, but we back now!

“OK,” Detective Babineaux and Liv Moore situated themselves in Ravi’s office while said man examined another foul-smelling corpse in a borrowed hazmat suit. “Run this vision by me one more time.”  
“Delano had all the eyes of the women in his church congregation, but it was only the spry young women that interest him.”  
Clive made a face. “I don’t like where this is going but continue...”  
“I saw him during a speech he was giving. Two girls gave him goo-goo eyes while their dad’s watched. One of them shook their heads at Delano like they knew something was up. Like he was telling him off.”  
“You think you could remember these people if we went through the picnic photos on their website?”  
Liv’s answer was cut off by the harsh sound of retching. Ravi was bent forward in his bright yellow suit and stiff.  
“I threw up in the suit,” Ravi said miserably from the other room. 

“You’ll have to apologize to the lovely people at the CDC who let you borrow it,” Liv said teasingly over the phone 20 minutes later.  
He gave a dry laugh that quickly turned into a dry heave. A sound like pressurized water hitting plastic drowned out all other noise from his end of the line until he stopped long enough to say, “I will after I’ve had a shower. I’ll talk to you later, Liv.”  
“Bye Ravi.”  
Clive motioned through the one-way mirror into the interrogation room and the first suspect entered. He was a stout black man, thick in the arms and waist as any man his age would have been. The watch on his wrist was gold, as was the cross around his neck. The rosary next to it was made from wood beads painted black, a family heirloom most likely. Clive began the interrogation, trying to be more cordial than usual. Hans Dillman matched him for a time until Clive dropped the hammer.  
“Did you have any sort of problems with the victim?”  
Dillman’s smile faltered, turning into more of a sneer. “Frank was my friend. Met him on a mission trip in Calcutta. Been inseparable ever since.”  
“We’ve heard that the man had a penchant for younger women,” Clive tried, “do you have a daughter, Mr. Dillman?”  
“I do,” Dillman said tightly, “why.”  
He was testing the water, playing dumb. Clive knew it, so did Liv.  
“Is it at all possible that he was perhaps in a relationship with her?”  
Frank scoffed, perhaps too harshly and with more than a hint of disgust. “Jasmine’s 20. She’s a bit old for him. Besides, she ain’t that stupid.”  
“I thought Frank was your friend.”  
“He was.” Dillman leaned forward like he was about to perform a fatherly lecture. “But I ain’t blind to how he treated women. He used them and then tossed them aside like trash. Once upon a time, I admired him for it. But then I had a little girl. I held her in my arms and watched my Jasmine grow into a woman. Frank never got that lesson-- he didn’t raise his daughter.”  
“Frank Delano had a daughter,” Clive clicked his pen eagerly. “Where is she now?”  
The interview with Jasmine Dillman went a little rougher now that Clive was eager to get into touch with Delano’s daughter. Halfway through, he excused himself to get to his desk, leaving Liv with her.  
“I’m sorry,” Liv leaned in on her elbows, “I know this must be hard for you.”  
The girl looked distant and confused. Every question she answered with her own, not like she was playing cat and mouse, but more like she didn’t think she belonged here. She relaxed marginally once the detective had left the room.  
“Is he always like that,” Jasmine asked.  
Liv made a face. “I mean… yeah…”  
Jasmine chuckled as her nerves eased some more. “I’m sorry, I’ve just never been in a police station before. My dad doesn’t like them.”  
“Yeah, I could tell,” Liv said. “So, something your dad said to us early made me wonder…” she floundered a bit for the right way to put it. “We had a witness that said they had seen your father have an argument with the victim before he died. Do you have any idea what that could have been about?”  
Jasmine looked shamefaced at the table. “No…”  
Liv only raised her eyebrows and said, “Thou shalt not lie.”  
Jasmine’s resolve cracked like eggshells. “Mr. Delano and I… we… we went on a few dates, OK? It wasn’t anything big-- dad completely blew up about it! And I’m on adult now--”  
“Jasmine,” Liv said, putting out a hand. “Just the facts, please.”  
“It’s just… Mr. Delano listened to me really well and always asked how my schooling was going. My dad hasn’t asked about my day since I was in third grade.” Jasmine sat back with her arms crossed. 

Liv strutted up to Clive’s desk and spotted him looking at a picture of his girlfriend. “Ooo, somebody’s love struck~”  
“Shut it.”  
“Bet she sends you dirty pictures,” Liv teased, “you should send one back!”  
Clive sighed through his nose. “Good to see that nasty old man brain has worn off. Now you’re just nosy and annoying on your own.”  
“Aww, thanks!” She took a seat in the opposite chair, hardly able to contain her excitement. “I got Jasmine talking after you left. She admitted to going on a few dates with the victim--”  
“Ew”  
“--and her dad found out about it!” Liv picked up the pen from his desk and pointed dramatically. “Checkmate.”  
"I still want to interview Pete and Carmen West, plus the daughter before we give this case any solidity."  
“Fine by me,” Liv said cheerfully. 

Meanwhile...  
If there were a door to kick open, Nesci would surely have splintered it to a thousand pieces-- or dented it if it were metal-- from the force which she stormed into the morgue with. If she were lighter of skin, her face would be beet red, instead, her lips were pressed so hard they’d gone bloodless and the muscles in her arms twitched in irritation. Ravi did not like the way a sliver of arousal followed the waves of concern and dull fear.  
“Everything alright,” he asked stupidly.  
“That DA,” she growled, wiping her hand over her foaming mouth, “that damn DA took my case! Goddamn it, goddamn it!”  
Nesci hucked her foot back to kick something, but paused and thought better of it. She sighed hard and seemed to relax-- dropping her visible fury from an 11 to a 5 in a heartbeat. It was kind of scary to watch, actually… especially knowing that Ravi was the reason Peyton had taken the case.  
“I’m sorry,” he said, “did she-- they-- give you any reason as to why?”  
Nesci stared a hole into the floor. “Connection to a bigger case, all hush-hush. She didn’t say but it was probably that Stacey Boss they’ve been whispering about… It’s fine. It’s fine-- it’s whatever, I’ll just... look at another case and thank my lucky stars she didn’t send some smug lackey to take it from me.”  
“That happen a lot to you in Vice?”  
Neci scoffed, calm now. “They usually had to pry cases out of my hands. After I sent those smug Yesmen back to their superiors bloodied.”  
For a moment-- just a hair of a second-- Ravi thought of asking her out to dinner to make up for it. She wore no ring, never made mention of family or her life at all outside of work. That was just the problem though, wasn’t it? That...and being the cause for her anger. Oh, well, another time then. Nesci left but he didn’t really hear her words of leaving, acknowledged half-heartedly by a distracted and disappointed doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Delano Case is gonna wrap up soon, just wanted to rewatch the show from the point this story is at to remind myself what the heck is going on.


	6. Further From The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come together, things fall apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This quarantine's been a damn rollercoaster but at least my finals are going well!

Beverly Paige-- maiden name Delano-- was a tough egg to crack. At every turn she was indignant, sarcastic, and above all patronizing. She deflected every question with whataboutism, never speaking directly about her father or his recent death in any respect except where she was concerned. Money for her in the will, to take care of her husband and new baby, but also his horrible gambling debts and former flings calling them at all hours asking after their cuts. Clive was glad to get her out of the precinct.   
Liv had returned from paying a visit to another of Delano’s friends, also with a young barely legal daughter Don and Delilah Deacon. was seated at his desk chatting with the vice detective. Nesci looked royally pissed off, evident only by the grip of her fist and the stiffness of her upper lip. He pulled her aside into an office to catch up.   
"Nicci," he stuffed his hands into his pockets, "how you been? What's got you so upset?"   
"DA took my case, Clive." She crossed her arms stiff as a statue. "How they gonna do that? Just take my work as I'm closing it?"   
He shrugged. "I dunno but I'm… sure they had good reason. What are you gonna do now?"   
She sighed in a way that made her shoulders sag in defeat. "Find another case, I guess. I'll see you around."   
"Alright. Hey!" He pointed at her threateningly. "You tell Barker he still owes me."   
Nesci laughed as she exited the precinct. Liv asked after their conversation but Clive brushed her off and vented about Delano's daughter. As she had a solid alibi, she was immediately off the list.   
"Any luck with the other suspects?"   
"No alibis, bu-ut no solid motives either," she sighed, slapping her thighs. "Didn't get much."   
"Damn."   
A raucous commotion startled the pair from their pity party. It was Beverly Paige becoming combative with a poor rookie. Her words were indiscernible and loud, and the rookie put his hands up to defend from the slap of the clipboard she had grabbed. Clive jumped into action, crossing the floor in a heartbeat and defusing the situation. He snatched the board from her grasp and demanded silence.   
"Ma'am," he said testily, "you're aware you've just assaulted an officer in a police station, right?"   
"Assaulted?" If she had half a brain cell less, she'd likely have spit on Clive's shoes. "This little pussy? He can take it."   
"Mrs. Paige, you can either leave this building or be handcuffed to it. Think I'm gonna have to add 'volatile and prone to violence' in my police record. That what it gonna take? Well congrats, 'cause you just reapplied yourself to our list of suspects in your father's death."   
Beverly's eyes widened, and she stumbled out of the precinct without much more fuss. Liv's little fist-bumped his shoulder, a proud smile that turned into an eye-rolling derogatory comment.   
"Atta boy, Babineaux, more men should tell women off like that. There would probably be less entitled bitches out there, eh? Eh? This guy knows what I'm talking about!" 

Major Lilywhite startled from his half-asleep state by the slam of the front door. All of the cards in the house he was building collapsed and fluttered to the floor. Ravi, in a state of disarray, scooted into the kitchen with a dopey grin on his face.   
"Dude," Major snapped half-heartedly, "my cards, man."   
"Oh I'm sorry, I thought you'd want to play a better game like--" From behind his back, Ravi unveiled a disc case. "The remastered Doom!"   
"No way," Major breathed, "the new one?? How did you even get that-- preorders don't come out for another month."   
Ravi turned sarcastically demure. "Oh, I've just got a friend in the Bungie development team, it's no biggie. But you seem really upset about your cards! Do you wanna play a board game instead? Candyland, perhaps? Shoots and Ladders?"   
Major snatched the coveted game from his patronizing roommate on his way to the TV. "Screw the cards, get your ass in here!" 

Back at Seattle PD, Nesci found her way back to Clive's desk-- empty now. She snatched the stapler up and used it to put a few tears in the useless copies of her notes from the stolen Cherry case. Someone unsmart tapped her shoulder lightly, but Nesci managed to become civil through a little kindergarten trick: close your mouth, open your ears. It was another officer-- a detective? She'd heard Ravi and Liv talk about him but she could not recall his name.   
"Cavanagh," he offered at last when the staring had become too much of a weight between them. "Here."   
The man passed off a folder with a case number on it. Nesci looked between the folder and this Cavanagh, wondering if this was a trick. God knows she had suffered dearly in her Vice initiation. A red ass, fat lip, and a tiny scar behind her ear never let her forget.   
"It's a cold one, I'll admit," he added. "I've been trying to close this thing for damn near seven months. I could use some fresh eyes, you know? Heard about the DA hijacking your case, and I…"   
"Thank you."   
Nesci meant it. Admitting one was not competent enough to close any case was like a kick to the taint for anyone, and she admired him for doing it out of the goodness of his heart. Or maybe Clive blackmailed him. Either way, she had something to do and she got back to her temporary digs to set about. 

Clive and Liv went over their suspects one more time. Interviewing Don and Delilah Deacon on her own meant that Liv didn't have any credentials to throw her weight around. She had had to go to their McMansion in Queen Anne's and got shut out the second the questions became specific. This time she'd have Clive to back her up, and in a police station no less.   
Don was a friend of the deceased as were Pete West and Hans Dillman. A falling out between them occurred a year prior and the four men split up: Hans with Pete and Don with Franklin. Pete had even gone so far as to move to a new church with his daughter Carmen and both had solid vacation alibis the week the murder was thought to have taken place. Don, however...  
"Be careful, this one can get a bit hysterical," Liv warned.   
"Yeah I've had a lot of those, we got this."   
Clive hadn't realized she had meant the father-- not the daughter. Don looked every bit like an Italian mobster but when it came down to the specifics of Delano's death, he changed. Tears glistened in the corners of his eyes, and he couldn't muster a single reason as to why anyone would ever want to hurt him-- let alone ask if Don himself could have done it.   
"I mean I loved that guy," he said. "Who didn't? Frankie could tell a hundred jokes and they'd never get old. He'd drink you under the table and still golf a perfect game in the morning. His sermons put the Catholic Pope to shame-- and my mother, may she rest in peace! So you tell me who would wanna hurt such a great guy."   
"Well it seems Mr. Delano was a love 'em and leave 'em type," Clive tried, "don't you think some of those women would take issue to that?"   
"Oh god," Liv, high on pervy misogynist brain, scoffed, "those bitches need to lighten up!"  
"Thank you!" Don jumped on the defense like flies on shit. "Frank was just a man and a man's gotta be a man, man! They all knew what they was getting into, ain't his fault they slept with him."   
Clive was liking this man less by the minute. His attention turned to Delilah however, when he noticed the darkness of her demeanor. Don had refused to go anywhere or do anything without his 19-year-old daughter by his side. She sat cross-armed and small like she didn’t want to be noticed.   
"What about the victim's relationship with you," he asked quietly. Don tried to cut in, but Clive shut him down. "I'm not talking to you right now, I'm asking her."   
Delilah squirmed under his gaze. "Uncle Frank ain’t never had no problem with me.”   
“Uh-huh," Clive wiped his mouth. "What about Jasmine Dillman?"   
The flash of anger in Delilah's eyes was unmistakable, but also inadmissible. Excusing Don from the room was out of the question, as this was just an official interview and no one was being arrested. He'd likely just drag Delilah with him, so they were both released after a few standard questions. Liv was unusually quiet.   
"Hey, let's go get lunch," Clive tried. "Or ice cream? You look like you could use a sundae pick me up."   
A Coldstone's Creamery wasn't a block from the station, and the very thought of ice cream seemed to cheer her up a bit. Clive had picked up on her frustration, but he had no way of knowing she couldn't actually taste ice cream anymore. More than anything, she was glad to be out of the precinct. That is until a vision hit her like a freight train.   
Franklin Delano lay on his back, bare-chested and gagged. Dainty hands reached out holding something like a small ice cream scooper and dug into the soft flesh of his stomach, taking a literal rounded chunk out of him. The shock of the gruesome sight prevented Liv from understanding the screaming voice of the attacker except identifying it as female.   
When she came to, Clive had dragged her out of the shop line and was fanning her face with a napkin.   
"What on earth," he said, "Liv what did you just see?"   
"The murder weapon," she put simply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is staying safe and able to afford necessities in this weird, semi-apocalypse. Love y'all, stay strong!


	7. Melon-choly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clive and Liv finish the putt-putt case and Nesci delivers some disheartening news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huzzah! I promised myself not to post this chapter until its successor was finished and now HERE WE ARE!

"A melon baller," Ravi leaned against the lab counter in thought. "That's gruesome…"   
"Well it matches the injuries," Liv answered. "And the attacker was definitely female, so there's that."   
"OK," Clive put his notes away, "that leaves us with Beverly Paige and Delilah Deacon as our suspects."   
"Suspects but not perps," Liv asked.   
Clive shook his head. "No, we don't really have anything except a profile and a body. We know what the murder weapon was but we don't actually have it. Only thing to do now is look for it and recheck their alibis."   
"Damn." Liv took a seat and grimaced. "I really wish I could be more help…"   
"It's alright Liv," Clive said, "we'll figure this out. Your vision was a big step, we just gotta be patient."   
"Keep on truckin', as they say," Ravi interjected.   
"Who. Who the hell says that."   
Ravi had no answer but a shrug. 

At night, the station was empty save for the skeleton crew and one or two night owl detectives. Ravi had gone home and, being unable to sleep, returned to check on the lab rats. Tidy desks were a rarity he never saw until night when most people were home. One desk was particularly filthy, and while it wouldn't have stood out during the day it was a lighthouse beacon at this time of night. Coffee cups overflowing from the waste bin, a file's papers strewn about and taped up over the computer monitor and even to the sides of the desk so as to be reviewed simultaneously without rifling through the stack. It was organized chaos.   
"Messy Nesci," Ravi heard himself say as he checked the desk's top for a name. She had to be around here somewhere and probably wouldn't like his snooping, so he headed for the lab. He found her coming up the stairs. "Oh, hi! What-- what you doing down here?"   
"Well looking for you." His heart skipped a beat. "Or Dr. Moore-- whoever was still here."   
"I think she'd prefer you call her Liv." He set his backpack down and invited her back into the lab. "What can I help you with?"   
"Can you look over your report for 141527? It's a staged mugging gone wrong in a place with cameras but I'm confused by these notations."   
Ravi looked over as Nesci pointed to what looked like a typo at first but Ravi recognized it anyways. "Oh that's my bad. I must have typed it directly from my notes-- it's just that he had horrifically chaffed ankles but that was probably from his shoes."   
Nesci nodded with a hand on her chin. "OK… thank you, doctor."   
She began to walk away distracted by her case when Ravi felt a vigorous urge. "Ravi! You can call me Ravi, if you like. Everyone else does."   
"Nicci," she said over her shoulder, "I'm Nikki with two C's, so don't forget it!" 

The Delano murder wrapped up quickly after they drained the put-put golf's water system. Six teams had to dig through literal decades of trash to find the murder weapon. Discarded food stuffs, small jewelry, golf balls, bullet cases and knives, a literal loaded gun rusted beyond recognition. There were actually two melon ballers but thankfully only one of them tested for trace amounts of blood.   
They told Paige and Deacon that the weapon had Franklin's blood on it during what would be their final interviews. Liv with Paige and Clive with Deacon.   
In Liv's room, Paige looked sick. "What does that mean? I don't even know what a melon baller is-- I have a gun. If I wanted my father dead-- which I didn't, not really-- I'd've just shot him!"   
She began to express confusion then, a real genuine sense of horror as Liv informed her Delano was essentially tortured to death and made to suffer. Paige didn't like her dad and with good reason, but she wasn't heartless to the human condition of sympathy for a slow and painful death. Liv thought of Clive and sent a prayer to whatever deity there was they weren't missing something. 

"Ms. Deacon, I know how you did it," Clive said coldly.   
"I didn't murder Frank," she protested. Delilah had remained astute to the very end, arms crossed and jaw set. She wouldn't give in unless he gave her something solid.   
"I know you got Frank Delano drunk and tied him up. I know you used a melon baller to scoop out his insides until his heart stopped. I know you dumped his body at the second worst putt-putt golf course in Seattle." Clay leaned back in his chair. "I just don't know why."   
Delilah Deacon's lip quivered violently and hot tears left scorching trails down her cheeks. "...he said he loved me. He said it but he was screwing Jazzy too! Well that's not right."   
She sniffled hard and Clive slid a pen and paper over to her as well as a tissue. "Why don't you write it all down. If you're honest enough, the DA may be able to take the death sentence off the table."   
Delilah snatched the pen up so fast she almost broke it. Her story was tragic but no amount of heartbreak warranted such a horrific and calculated death. It was the topic of debate between the trio of justice for about a month.   
"She was pregnant--" Ravi argued.   
"But she got pregnant on purpose," Liv shot back. "Everybody knew Frank wasn't going to take responsibility-- he hadn't 25 years before so why would he start now?"   
Clive looked like he'd put on ten years. "Please… please I don't wanna talk about this anymore. I'm going home and I don't wanna hear about this case ever again."   
As soon as he started packing up the cases on his desk, Ravi and Liv continued to argue quieter.   
"I think you're still vibing on perv brain is why you're taking his side!"   
"I am not taking his side," she whispered, "And I am perfectly me, capiche?"   
The sound of someone clearing their throat made the two doctors stand like scolded children until they realized it had been Nesci, not Clive.   
"Nesci! I mean Nicci," Liv elbowed Ravi in the ribs. "It's good to see you."   
Nicci hummed in amusement. "You did good closing that case. Thought dropping by you might rub some of that lucky off on me."   
Plenty of other things I'd rub on you, came Ravi's unbidden but not untrue thoughts.   
Then everybody was looking at him, and he feared for a second that he'd said that out loud (don’t worry, he did not). Clive interrupted the conversation with a hug goodbye for Nicci. With a last 'stay out of trouble,' Clive Babineaux disappeared in a wave of officers to get some proper rest. Ravi barely noticed that Liv and Nicci had been talking while he was distracted with worry.   
"--well now that's too bad," Liv was saying. "We really liked having you around the lab. Are you sure you can't stay in homicide?"   
Nicci chuckled. "Nah, no offense but I prefer to work with the living. Only thing bringing me into this lab was the two of you."   
Liv cooed with her hands pressed over her heart and gave the other woman a warm hug. "We'll have to hang out sometime, then. Go out for drinks or movie night."   
Nicci winked. "I'm gonna hold you to that!"   
As soon as the woman had returned to her desk, Ravi poked Liv in the arm. "What was all that about-- I feel like I missed something. She going somewhere?"   
Liv poked him right back. "Obviously. Too busy checking out her backside? Well you better get your fill because after this case, she's back in Vice."   
"No," Ravi whined.   
"You could always ask her out now," Liv suggested as they returned to the lab and the mess the work day had accumulated.   
"Also no," Ravi replied.   
"Why? Think she's out of your league," Liv teased.   
Ravi, of course, got huffy. "'Out of my league'-- as if. I think you're forgetting that I am both British and a doctor! So I… I do suppose you have a point, then…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wonder exactly about Delilah, she was pregnant but is not pregnant at the time of her arrest. The case took a month to finish, and there is no baby losing its mother here. 
> 
> Chapter 8 will go up next week, pinky swear


	8. Such Sweet Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major is living on borrowed time, Liv has been benched by Clive, and Ravi's heartbroken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did the thing. The thing where you rewatch a show for inspiration but watch too far and screw up your plan to remind yourself what specifically is happening in the timeline. You know, that old story? Basically this episode and the next take place during the episode 'Method Head.'

Today wasn't supposed to be sad. Reality was just a bitch like that sometimes, though. Ravi found New Hope zombified and deanimated, and he immediately pressed his face against the glass of the cage in defeat.   
Explaining that Major was living on borrowed time hurt all of them. Peyton and Liv, but most of all Major himself. His jaw went slack and for a long time, nobody said anything. Liv, ever the overachiever, threw herself into her work as a distraction.   
A security officer was shot dead and the suspect may have ties to Stacey Boss, so everyone was busy. Ravi back on more tests to fix the fatal error in his zombie cure, and unbeknownst to anyone else, Major on his coercive mission to hunt and ‘kill’ Seattle zombies. 

The clacking of heels on linoleum was a much welcome distraction from dead rats. He was getting used to the association of that sound with a particular person. Ravi popped his head out of the back alcove to find Nicci Nesci holding something strange. 

"Is that a cricket bat?"  
"I was hoping you could tell me," she replied. "Thought it looked discolored on this side."   
The woman pointed to the end where it looked like someone had taken bleach and done the best they could with it. “I’ll run some tests. It shouldn’t take long, why don’t you sit awhile.”   
Nicci did as she was told and folded her hands on the table before her. She watched with curious eyes as Ravi worked but took special interest in the forlorn slope of his mouth.   
“Everything alright?,” she asked.   
“Fine,” Ravi said unconvincingly. “It’s a, uh, a family… thing.”   
“OK,” she said. And then, “I’m sure whatever it is, it’s going to be OK eventually.”   
“Yeah,” he agreed weakly. “Yeah, right, year. It’ll sort itself out for the best.”   
He did a weird motion with his shoulders and went back to work, letting himself be swept away. As soon as he was able to confirm her finds, she was gone, and for once he was grateful to be alone again. 

Not the murder weapon, she thinks, but used for violence. "The victim showed no signs of blunt force trauma of this caliber. The rope used to hog tie the victim cut off his circulation and he died of cardiovascular stress."   
"He also passed out long before he died," Cavanaugh confirmed, nodding his head along.   
"You reported his cricket friends considered him violent?"   
"I wouldn't call them his friends, but yes. They said Teddy was starting a fight every match."   
"Sounds like Teddy should have taken up hockey," Nicci mumbled.   
"He tried," Cavanaugh said, covering a laugh bubbling up with a cough, "they said he was too volatile even for them."   
"Jesus." Nicci flipped a page and switched the position of her crossed legs. "Did you ask about the cricket bat?"   
Cavanaugh shook his head. "It wasn't collected as evidence."   
"I found it in relation to another case– I knew a Teddy Sullivan from a case I worked in Vice. His brother Cody was selling steroids to local athletics teams. I never got Teddy on any charges and ultimately decided he had had nothing to do with his brother's business, but maybe I'll take a second look."   
"You want me to ask his cricket friends about Teddy's bloody bat?"   
"If you wouldn't mind, I'd like the company," she said. It was his case, but he had given it to her to lead. It would look better if they moved as partners on this. 

“I got to visit my favorite show set and meet my favorite actors ever,” Liv exclaimed.   
“Too bad it’s because of a dead macho teenager,” Ravi scoffed.   
“‘Jordan Marsh was a great actor,” she scolded. “...and now that his arc is ended, my favorite characters can date…”   
“Wow,” he replied, pulling the last piece of the bullet out of Marsh’s skull, “how heartfelt.”   
Liv tapped his shoulder with the back of her hand in mock offense. They finished up the autopsy and she made herself a little snack out of Jordan's brain, careful to watch the entrance for Clive. He was still upset with her after her last fiasco. No more trouncing around Seattle like a hero, he’d said, only more heartbreakingly. But Liv thought they might be on their way to making up...  
Only it's Nicci Nesci who comes a waltzing down the stairs, and none too soon as the brain was already masked by a delicious meal. Liv doesn't miss how she smiles slyly at Ravi on her way to wrap an arm around Liv.   
"I think we'll be moving drinks up a few days," she said. "Cavanaugh and I had a major break in the case."   
"Oh yeah?," Liv said, half excited with a hint of disappointment.   
Nicci, slowly becoming ever more affectionate towards her doctor friend, smiled sideways. "Yeah, I know… I'm going to miss you too. Both of you. Though I will not miss the smell of chemicals or these fucking lights. It's like a damn horror movie in here!"   
Liv laughed. "Ok, ok. Drinks when? Friday?"   
"How about Monday? I know you've got work right after, but this weekend I've got some major Christmas shopping to do."   
"Oooo, would you possibly be in need of a second opinion," Liv asked clapping her hands, "or a third?"   
She looked pointedly at Ravi who shook his head in panic before Nicci would see him. "I already have a detailed list, y'all would be bored outta your minds being dragged from store to store. I take no brakes and no prisoners."   
"That's alright, Liv's forgetting she already has plans this weekend," Ravi scolded.   
"Well I'll see you two around," Nicci said as she began heading for the door. "Not for too long, I guess. Actually–"   
Nicci doubled back and walked straight up to Ravi. The man frankly had never been so intimidated by someone who didn't mean him any harm. She put out an open palm and waited politely for him to drop his cell into it. When she was finished and bounding up the stairs with her impossibly long legs and high heels, Ravi saw he had a new contact called 'Nesci Nicci.' 

"I bet she does all her contacts like that," he tells Major later at home. "Last name, first name. No punctuation. My number is probably Chakrabarti Ravi in hers."   
Major rejoined him on the couch with popcorn and Minor, who after struggling to jump onto the couch with his short legs, easily crossed over Ravi's lap to sit between them. Major let the dog have the blanket and covered his back as he replied.   
"It would be if you'd text her already."   
Ravi looked between his friend, the dog, and his phone again. He hadn't put it down since he'd gotten it back and Major was starting to think it was glued to his hand. Ravi, of course, made no such movement, or any at all. This had Major rolling his eyes.   
"Dude, come on," he said, trying to snatch the phone unsuccessfully. "Just text 'hi,' no point in keeping her waiting anymore. It's been hours."   
"But what if this is my chance?" Ravi looked stupidly between Major and the phone. "What if I just send a winky face instead? No, no I should send a cool pick up line. How does 'hey sexy' sound?"   
Major stared at him. "Oh, are you done? How is 'hey sexy' a cool pick up line– what, are you walking up to her at a nightclub? Give me that!"   
This time when Major reached for the phone, he caught it. Ravi still fought to keep a hold on it, wrestling for control until Major came out the victor. Minor only whined in annoyance as they rocked his comfy sleeping place with their rowdiness. Major fired off a text and threw the phone aside.   
"What?" Ravi got up and dove for the coveted object, "what did you send??"   
He looked at the screen just in time to see an incoming text flash into the chat. Oh god, he thought, it's too late to go back now. The screen read:   
'Hey, it's Ravi. Should've gotten your number earlier!'   
'Haha! You damn right'  
'Can you make it to drinks Monday @ 8? Bring anyone you like, it's on me 😉'

Ravi exhaled all of the air in his lungs and collapsed onto the floor.   
"Dude, get up. We've got a movie to watch, remember?" Major sat back with remote in hand and waited for his friend to get settled before hitting play. 

Sure enough, come Monday night, everybody gathered for a goodbye party dedicated to one Nicci Nesci. Clive Babineaux only stayed for two drinks before insisting he head home, and the girls let him with sly smiles on their faces. Nicci at this point knew all about the FBI agent and was not insulted in the slightest to see him go. She was caught off guard when Liv showed up with the DA lawyer who had stolen her case, though.   
She stood awkwardly, her long pea coat drapped open on her body and her toes twitching. Still, the DA swallowed and stuck out her hand to shake.   
"Peyton Charles," she introduced herself. "I'm sorry about hijacking your case, truly I am."   
Nicci gave her a cold hard stare before sighing the anger away. She took up Peyton's hand with a firm grip but did not crush the other woman's fingers.   
"I understand. Bet you make a lot of enemies trying to put Boss away. Can't say I'm not still sore about it, but I won't hold a grudge. Peyton, was it?"   
Peyton– and everyone else in the room– breathed a collective sigh of relief. "Yeah, it is. Nicci? I love that name."   
The night was easy then. Conversation flowed like water over everyone and Nicci found the additions of Peyton and Major very much to her liking. Ravi didn't drink beyond one beer as the designated driver, but Peyton, Major, and Liv got absolutely smashed. Nicci enjoyed seeing such a hearty group become twice as loveable after a round of tequila shots. She didn't miss how Liv’s preferred drink of choice was a bloody mary– extra bloody. Watching Liv lean her head against Peyton's arm, she sent a silent thanks to Cavanaugh for keeping her on assignment in the Homicide department for two weeks longer.   
That night, Ravi carried Major to his car, and Peyton and Liv caught a ride home from Nicci (who had given herself a few hours to sober up). Nicci stopped by a gas station to fill her tank and went to her dad's apartment for the night. She fell asleep wondering why Ravi was so distant and distracted…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trynna get in a few extra shifts at work before it's back to the grindstone in school. I think I've finally figured out what my momentum is in this story so the flow of the chapters should come easier to me now.


	9. Seasons Feedings Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into Nicci's personal life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY GUACAMOLE I had to split this chapter up into 3 parts because I was pushing 5,000 words for some reason! I'll probably take an official break from this story to figure out the rest and take my mind off it for a while.

Vice gave Nicci as warm a welcome as expected. Desk jockeys scowled as she passed and her office had a rat– a rat named Ronnie. His taco bell scraps were everywhere the trash bin wasn’t, the locks on her filing cabinet were savagely broken, and the light fixture was hanging by a single wire. Ronnie was taking a nice, long nap in her chair, dirty socked feet on the desk, and releasing the kindred aroma of nachos into the air.   
It took ten minutes to reestablish her place in the food chain that is the Seattle Vice department. Ronnie scurried out of the station with two black eyes and no one, not even Cheerful Ted was safe from her wrath. Nicci shouted until her voice was hoarse with rage and she began to sound like a voice double for Beetlejuice. When at last, the final department douchebag had been properly chewed out, Nicci paused to down a gallon of water from Monty’s desk. They looked up at her from atop the rim of their glasses, impressed.   
“Firing in? I like it,” Monty said.   
“Fuck you and your lemon-flavored bullshit,” Nicci said hoarsely, slamming the drink back on the desk. “If you were here, you could have taken my office.”   
Monty shrugged. “Listen Vader: you snooze, you lose– Ronnie beat me fair and square. I even arm-wrestled for it! I just wasn’t strong enough, I’m sorry.”   
“You’ve failed me for the last time.” Nicci let the rage roll off her back and picked up Monty’s keys before motioning her head towards the door. Once they were clear of the eyes of other detectives, Nicci put a hand on Monty’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Monty, you know I didn’t mean any of that shit.”   
Monty shrugged again. “Apology accepted. It’s water off a duck’s back.”   
“How did your case go?”   
“Fine,” they said, fussing with their hair in the reflection of a donut shop. “Bordelli went down smoothly. Not a single hitch to be found.”   
Nicci whistled. “Ain’t that something? Wish life could be so simple all the time.”   
“I hear ya, sister,” Monty laughed. “Now let’s get you a coffee!”   
They caught up. The smell of brewing coffee and the sounds of vinyl swirling around their heads. Monty told Nicci about Bordelli’s embezzlement, offshore accounts, and foot fetish. Nicci told Monty about working in Homicide, befriending the doctors in the morgue, and seeing Clive again.   
“Clive motherfucking Babineaux?!,” they screamed. Every single head turned to witness Monty slapping a hand over their mouth. They didn’t apologize or look anywhere but at Nicci. “Fucking Babineaux– how is he doing?? What the hell has he been up to?”   
“He’s been really great! Solving crime by the book like he always wanted.”   
Monty’s head bobbed for an uncomfortably long time before, their smile faltered. The cup stains on the table seemed to become very interesting all of a sudden and Nicci began to worry. Instead of pushing for an answer, Nicci finished her coffee and waited. Patience is a virtue, she heard her dad chant in her head. Her mother would’ve sung it, but her father never had to.   
“So listen,” they said, picking at the table with a manicured nail. “I’ve um… got a new gig. I just… I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and soul… searching… and I, um, I... “   
They took a deep, calming breath. “I’m quitting the force, Nicci. I’ve already put in my two-weeks two weeks ago– Kane’s already given me a going-away present...”   
“Oh.” Nicci told Monty she was happy for them. Monty promised to call once a week and come by Christmas Eve. They parted with a hug and made vague promises about hanging out once a month to catch up. But Nicci knew herself better and so did Monty. As soon as it became too much of a hassle, as soon as it hurt too much, Nicci was going to shut them out. She didn’t hold on to things she couldn’t see effortlessly. Maybe things would be different this time but Nicci was not going to delude herself with optimism.   
Kane offered up a stack of files for new partners, which Nicci threw into the trash as soon as they scorched the surface of her desk. Her director only sighed and left the office for Nicci to finish cleaning the place and taking an old but only slightly used filing cabinet from the basement to replace her destroyed one. She scowered over 200 case files, making sure nothing was taken or misplaced this time. It was a wonder the computer wasn’t smashed in with a sledgehammer, though Nicci doubts Ronnie had any technology skills whatsoever. Soon, Nicci Nesci was back in action– flying solo this time. 

Five days until Christmas. Red and white lights hung up in almost every apartment window. Always a minimum of five apartments had blue and green lights, and their suburban home-owning neighbors hung Seahawks wreaths from their doors. Seattle’s Volunteer park was packed even this late at night thanks to the new show workers were putting on. The park was surrounded by a few miles of true white-collar suburbs. Every house from Lakeview Boulevard to 25th Avenue East was sporting blue and green. Nicci wondered if she could get a good picture from the park observatory.   
Dressed in a leather jacket and Santa hat, nobody gave her a second glance except the white moms who clutched their kids before realizing Nicci was a black woman. Still, she flashed them soft, non-threatening smiles and kept her badge in her pocket unless they fit the description– under five foot, athletic, minimum three kids. Most of these women traveled with a two-seater pram and the new baby in a chest sling. It was uncanny how many women she ran into that fit that exact description.   
“Miss?” Nicci handed over her badge to a particularly short woman with blue dyed tips. The kids in the stroller were out cold but the baby fussed quietly. “My name is detective Nesci. May I ask you a few questions?”   
After an unnecessarily long inspection of her badge (there’s no way she’d be able to tell a fake from a real badge unless it was literally plastic), the woman relinquished hold of it with a shrug. She introduced herself as Indigo Martinez– she lived two miles from the park with her husband.   
Yes, she had been approached by a man in a Santa suit. Yes, all of them had offered her drugs (she reports that she refused). What? All of them, yeah, Santas were doing that shit on the daily. Here? In the park? Just one, but he wasn’t offering drugs, he was being a fucking creep. Yeah! He kept asking how old her kids were, what they liked to eat, how long it took to potty train them. Ms. Martinez told them to fuck off. Them– there were two weirdos. No, she couldn't remember what the second one looked like because he wasn’t in a Santa suit. She just tried to get home as fast as possible. No, she didn’t make a police report because she isn’t a narc.   
The woman shut down after the question: ‘why do you keep coming here after dark if you had a bad encounter?’ Nicci could see she was losing her, so she tried a different approach. She took a second look at the kids in the stroller as Ms. Martinez rocked the fussing baby.   
“Twins?” Ms. Martinez looked at Nicci suspiciously. “I got twins, too. Boys, both of them. Love ‘em to death, but damn if it wasn’t hard putting them to sleep.”   
All of the tension, all of the city slicking defensiveness seemed to melt off of the woman’s face. “Yeah. Them too. They like the fresh air and the lights, won’t sleep for hours unless I take them out here. I tried driving them, I tried coming here before dark, but… it just wasn’t working. My husband comes home every night at eleven– it’s the only time we get just the two of us. I’m not stupid you know– I’ve got protection.”   
Ms. Martinez, slowly so as not to alarm the officer, took out her concealed carry and her permits from her pocket. Nicci took them as a show of faith, to ensure to Ms. Martinez that she was one of the good ones (cops, that is). Nicci whistled long and low.   
“This is a good piece, ma’ am,” she admired the handgun, checking the safety is on. “Low recoil, decent caliber. Though I would recommend a first resort like mace on hand.”   
Ms. Martinez dangled her overcrowded keychain to show off a little pink bottle of repellent. Just as she was leaning her head back in triumph, the woman seemed to spot something behind Nesci. She almost dropped her keys pointing.   
“That way! I think I saw the Santa guy!”   
Nicci returned the gun and permit hastily, spinning around and catching a glimpse of a scrawny Santa running the other way. He must have heard Ms. Martinez’s shouting and booked it. He wasn’t about to get away this time though.   
...Ok, he got away this time. He hopped one too many fences for Nicci to keep up with. He disappeared from view one too many times and finally, he was just gone.   
Fuck it. Nicci took a mouthful of the tequila in her flask and walked back to her car. She threw her hat in the passenger seat and buckled up, only instead of taking off home, she took a short nap. They could wait a little longer, she wasn't expected back this early anyways.   
Dad's apartment was modest for his income, though nicer than any barber should have had. Russell James Negrillo made most of his income from being Seattle's bookie– though he would tell any who got too nosy that he was actually the Seahawks' favorite barber (and the Seattle Sonics when they were still contracted in Seattle). Nicci had a key, but she knocked anyway and Dad opened the door, surprised to find her.   
"Eh, girl. Thought you'd be out 'til dawn again?."   
Nicci shrugged and threw herself on the couch. "Did you talk to your guy like I asked you?"   
Dad crossed his arms and tapped his foot. "Don't nobody know nothing about daddy-napping Santa Clauses, sugar."   
Nicci hummed into the face of the pillow. "Boys eat already?"   
"Ate, bathed, abed and asleep. Which is what you should be."   
"Skip it. Straight to sleep."   
Dad sighed and patted his daughter's head. "Goodnight, sweetheart."   
Nicci only slept an hour on that overstuffed couch before she picked herself up and stumbled through the darkness with only the wall to guide her. The guest room was completely dark except the bit of moonlight pooling in from the window like liquid silver. Two nine-year-old boys slept wrapped around each other, one with his feet planted directly in the other's face. She slid Isaac around, knowing he slept just a little heavier than his brother did. Jojo rolled to the other side of the bed, his face now free from the oppressing smell of Isaac’s toes. Nicci slid right into the crevasse that had opened up, jacket abandoned by the door, and pulled Isaac under her arm. She placed a hand on Jojo’s head and drifted swiftly into sleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you surprised? She's a mama! Ravi's gonna have a seizure


	10. Seasons Feedings Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee with a "friend" and Christmas with the Nesci-Negrillo family. What could be sweeter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Ravi, but he was never more pathetic (and not in a good way) than when he was hung up on Peyton. Specifically that he makes it out to be her fault. Boy was right as hell when he said he pushed her into Blaine's arms...

Work on the Zombie High case has gone stale, but in the meantime, Clive and Liv’s relationship has patched up. Liv even got to help Clive pick out a perfume present for Dale. Every two weeks, Liv and Peyton go out for drinks with Nicci, and Ravi seems to grow more and more reticent as the holiday progresses. Today, he was sulking harder than usual after what he has secretly dubbed ‘Peyton’s betrayal.’  
Liv’s had it up to her neck with his attitude. “Could you– I don’t know– not be such a fun killer? It’s Christmas, for Pete’s sake!”  
Ravi looked over his shoulder at her like a lazy zombie (how ironic). “Yeah, you’re right, Liv.”  
The brooding man swivels around in his chair to smile sarcastically. “It’s Christmas! You’re still a zombie, Major’s gonna die if I don’t find a cure for the cure soon, and oh yeah– Peyton’s dating Blaine! Just a Merry Christmas all around.”  
Liv turned her head expectantly. “Peyton is not ‘dating Blaine.’ And even if she was– you shot your shot. I’m sorry. But you’ve got no one to blame but yourself. And honestly, Major’s condition should have been top of that list or least last of that sentence.”  
Maybe Liv was right (she was). Maybe Ravi shouldn’t be so hung up on the thought of Peyton and Blaine having sex, but god it was so hard to push out of his mind. The woman he loved and the man he hated most in this world, tangled around each other the same way he himself had tangled with Peyton. He felt physically ill every time he closed his eyes and even imagined beautiful, strong-headed Peyton smiling in Blaine’s direction. Blaine didn’t deserve that.  
“Hey I know,” Liv said suddenly, sweeping her roller chair across the linoleum lab floor. “Why don’t you text Nicci? Ask her out for a drink– get your mind to obsess about something other than my best friend?”  
Well, that did sound nice. Or… but Liv had already swiped Ravi’s phone from the desk and pulled out of his reach, effectively ripping the earphones off of him and causing a painful pop to render him temporarily incapacitated. He was too busy rubbing the ringing away as she typed on his screen.  
“There,” she put simply.  
The phone returned to Ravi’s hands and he looked down in horror. Why, oh why, were his friends so keen on doing things for him? Nicci’s contact stared back at him threateningly and he pulled at his collar uncomfortably. He was halfway through an apology text when she replied.  
Nicci: I’m free now. Do you want to grab a coffee?  
Ravi’s heart dropped into his stomach. No backing out now. She had seen him adding text– they both had iPhones. The breath that escaped his lungs carried a lot of weight behind it. Weight that he wasn’t ready to pick apart just yet.  
Vice Nicci dressed a little differently than Homicide Nicci had. Her scuffed leather jacket screamed ‘badass’ but her Santa hat articulated ‘approachable.’ It was exactly what he needed right now. She greeted him with a smile, but he could tell she knew there was something wrong with him. Did all women have six senses, or were they just better at reading body language?  
“Hey Nicci,” Ravi said awkwardly. He spread his arms out and dropped them back to his side, feeling more and more awkward by the second. “How’s Vice?”  
Nicci scoffed in a good-natured kind of way. “A pain in the ass.”  
She motioned for him to sit down for a while, though neither of them had ordered drinks yet. They met at a different corner Starbucks, hoping to escape the tourist crowds in Pike’s Place. It seems like the other locals were, too. Plenty of Suits to bump into and snotty children’s hands to feel creeping across your legs if you didn’t keep a careful watch for them. Lord knows their parents weren’t looking at them. Nicci, for the quick temper she had shown before, did not seem bothered in the slightest by childish interruptions. Nay, she reveled in talking to the wandering pairs of tykes that came up to touch her hat– she was almost cooing. A lot of thoughts came and went from Ravi’s mind except the most obvious of answers.  
“Uh,” he stammered. “Do you work with a lot of kids in Vice?”  
Nicci’s mouth turned sideways in a pretty way even if she was mocking him. “Um, no? Not really. I just like ‘em is all.”  
“Ah,” he said and nodded like he understood (which he most certainly did not). His face fell as she didn’t initiate conversation and instead seemed to wait for him to talk. He froze up. “Uh… Homicide is good. Well, no, 'homicide' is not good, it’s very, very illegal and… immoral. What I meant to say was that the department– the Police department– is doing fine– er, good, it’s good.”  
Ravi seemed to be speaking more to the eavesdropping patrons in the shop than to Nicci. She chuckled at his expense and nodded her head in the direction of the shortened line. Once the lunchtime crowds dispersed, the coffee and bagels became a welcome distraction. Ravi had no idea how hungry he was until he took his first bite.  
“How long has it been since you ate?,” Nicci immediately asked. “You’re moaning like that bagel’s finishing a favor for you.”  
She made air quotes around the word ‘favor’ and Ravi laughed. He tried to talk around the mouthful but could not stop himself from taking bites even before he swallowed. The woman let him eat, digging into her own with a raised eyebrow. It really had been a while, Ravi had skipped breakfast that morning and dinner had been a half bag of crisps that Major didn’t finish. Then came the realization of why he was having trouble eating.  
“You OK?”  
Nicci watched Ravi’s apparent joy turn sour in an instant. He looked sad and sick and lost all of a sudden, more so than when she had seen him before. She was beginning to get a strong feeling that that text he had sent her had one emoji too many to actually be Ravi.  
Ravi nodded and set the last piece of his bagel aside, his coffee turned lukewarm and untouched. “It’s just…” He crossed his arms over the table and leaned into them for support. “ It’s just that there’s this girl I really like, and we– we used to date, right? But… now I found out she slept with this one guy that I absolutely hate and I… I…”  
Ravi was too occupied with his musings to see Nicci’s face grow cold.  
“N-not that she cheated or anythin’-- we were broken up when she… anyways, I know it’s wrong but I just… no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop picturing them together like that. A-and now she’s seeing him more than ever, you know? She needs him to help her with a... Project for her work.”  
“Are you dating?”  
“Hm? Sorry?”  
“Are you–” Nicci repeated slowly. “-Dating again?”  
“Well no– but– ”  
“Then it sounds like it’s none of your concern nor your business.”  
Ravi’s face fell even harder. Nicci was looking at him like she might look at a remorseless criminal, and he was far from feeling no shame or guilt. It was a look his friends all felt but had never dared express so brazenly. She just didn’t understand…  
“I get it,” she said, biting back her anger a bit. “You can’t change how you feel about something even when you know it’s unfair. But suck it up. Peyton is free to make her own choices– and if it doesn’t bother Liv, why should it bother you?”  
So many questions ran through his head at once. How did she know he was talking about Peyton? Did Peyton talk about him to her? When did they become such good friends? Why did Nicci have such strong feelings about this? Did she have feelings for him? Did Peyton still have feelings for him? The last question clung to him like condensation to a window. Nothing else mattered in the world than the answer to that question. He barely noticed Nicci sigh and stand up, throwing her bag over her shoulder and saying goodbye. He had to know… 

Christmas for Nicci’s family came early. The boys scrambled over each other to get to the tree first, and their mother had to step over their wrestling bodies to get into the kitchen.  
“Hey, hey, hey, knock it off!” She just managed to set the prepared turkey onto the counter before one of them tumbled into her legs. “Oh for christ’s sake– knock it off, you two!”  
Her sons scrambled apart. Isaac’s messy brown hair had dust bunnies in it and Nicci made a mental note to sweep sometime this weekend. Jojo had been biting his nails again, too, she’d have to put a stop to that. Nail polish usually did the trick– he’d be too busy showing them off to put them in his mouth. She ushered them into the living room of her apartment, ignoring the vibrating of her phone as ‘Rat Ronny’ popped up on the screen.  
“Is that grandpa?,” Isaac asked, trying to claw his way over her shoulder. They were getting too big to carry, but neither of them had realized it quite yet. She pushed him down by his head to sit next to the silver tree skirt, drawing his attention towards the wrapped presents in curiosity.  
“No, it’s work. Grandpa’s on his way with his own gifts to give you.”  
“What about Santa,” Jojo asked as he viciously shook one of the boxes Nicci knew didn’t have his name on it. “Did Santa bring presents, too?”  
“Santa’s coming on Christmas Eve,” she reminded him. “He’ll have the best presents of all.”  
Isaac had started to pile his presents in a precarious stack beside himself when he said, “mama, how come you didn’t get us the best presents?”  
Instead of being offended, Nicci shrugged. “Don’t wanna steal Santa’s thunder.”  
Grandpa arrived just in time for Nicci to start the oven timer. Dusk was falling and the weather channel was promising snow, but that was unlikely in Seattle. Maybe one of these days, Nicci would take her kids up to Snoqualmie and rent a cabin. They’d love that. She told their grandpa as much when Rat Ronnie sent another text.  
Rat Ronnie: hey sugar tits, could use a little help down by the shippin yard. Come faster  
Nicci fired off an aggressive ‘I’ll get there when I get there,’ and returned to her kids, leaving her phone on the kitchen counter. She caught her dad scrubbing his hand over Jojo’s curls and talking about a shave. Isaac’s eyes lit up and he asked about designs they could do. He looked at his mother pleadingly and she sighed.  
“Tell you what,” she sat between them on the floor. “How’s about you get those grades up and I’ll do your designs myself.”  
Her sons exchanged snickering glances. “Mama, we want grandpa to do it. He is a barber.”  
She pretended to be offended and then gave them ‘the nod.’ They tore into their presents starting with the ones Grandpa had brought over in metallic gold wrapping paper. Isaac pulled out an earring while Jojo pulled out a sponge curl brush.  
“Grandpa, why can’t I have a popcorn brush?,” Isaac asked.  
Grandpa looked at his daughter when he said, “it’s ‘cause you got your daddy’s hair, boy. Ain’t gonna do nothing for you.”  
Isaac ran a hand through his Caucasian locks with a self-loathing Nicci had been fighting all his life. It’s why his teachers insisted on calling him ‘Isaac’ rather than his first name, why some boys preferred to play with his brother instead of him (and some boys preferred to play with him). But there were things that Jojo was shunned for too, and someday, they’d come to realize that they were all they would ever need. Some day… but for now, Nicci pulled her light-skinned boy under her arm and kissed the hair he hated so much. Jojo leaned into her from the other side and turned his brother’s hand around to get a better look at his present.  
“Is that a real diamond, grandpa,” he whistled as well as any boy his age, “wow, brother, I’m jealous!”  
Isaac smiled sheepishly in thanks. “You can wear it, too, if you want.”  
Both of the boys had gotten their ears pierced when they were little– only Isaac liked to wear them. Studs or hoops, Jojo could not stand the weight of earrings– he said they itched. Nicci silently thanked Grandpa for his foresight in picking gifts that were uniquely for them. Everything else they could share with fervor. The boys unboxed new video games and shirts and a soccer ball, matching Seahawks snapbacks and a packet of fun, tall socks to share. By the time Nicci was checking the turkey, the living room was awash in the sounds of play and a rerun of yesterday’s soccer game.  
Her phone had a new, unread text.  
Rat Ronnie: I got your guys  
Or should I say GAYS?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In real reality, most mothers I know elect not to tell potential dates about their kids for several reasons, one of the most important being the safety and security of their children (it's also not a good pick-up line, and if it "is," hoe RUN, do not WALK away, RUN).

**Author's Note:**

> This will be mostly unedited, I will not trouble myself to follow canon too much, but I doubt I'll stray too far. As of now (I'm on season 2, episode 6) I am completely aware of the fact that Ravi is probably going to get back with Peyton, and in canon this is good, but for obvious reasons this gets in the way of my story and I have no intention of making the wonderful Peyton the antagonist of my character.


End file.
